“Will they come from that direction, Uncle Fred?” asked Adrian, halting beside the other, as he mopped his steaming face with his red bandana handkerchief, which of course he carried, cowboy fashion, knotted about his neck, with the loose folds hanging in front, so that while riding swiftly along they could be utilized to wipe his eyes free from dust, without releasing his bridle hand.
“Well, you see, son,” replied the other, as he lowered the glasses, and showed by his disappointed look that he had failed to glimpse some object he had been hoping to discover; “I’m not bothering about the rustler crowd just now. Since they didn’t get along in time to stop the drive, and run off the cattle, chances are they’ll hold off till midnight, or along about there. But I did hope to pick up a little dust over yonder. That’s about where the sheriff and his posse’d be apt to show up, when they do come along.”
“No signs of them yet, then, Uncle?”
“I’m sorry to say not, Adrian; but then, as the officer is a new hand he might find it a little difficult
to gather a posse. You see, these Walkers have a lot of friends scattered around, and that’s going to make it hard to knock ’em out; but the new sheriff was elected for just that purpose, I was told, and they say he’s a nervy man. Reckon he’ll need all the grit he’s got to tide him over; but at last the stockmen around this county have made up their minds this wholesale robbery has got to stop, no matter what sort of war comes along. And I’m going to join hands with them, in spite of what the rest of the house says.”
He made this assertion boldly; but habit caused him to give a quick glance over his shoulder when speaking, just as though he half feared to discover Mrs. Comstock standing there, with upraised hand, and a bitter smile on her strong features.
But from the sigh of relief that broke involuntarily from the lips of Uncle Fred it was apparent that the coast was clear. Really, Adrian believed that if things kept going on in this way much longer, his relative would presently turn out to be as timid as some other men he had known, for instance that pilgrim of the trail, who gave his name as Mr. Thomas, and who acted as though he might be dodging a threatening hand most of the time.
Having completed their work the punchers were grouped together, exchanging many remarks after the manner of their kind; while the sweating ponies
stood around, each with his bridle rein trailing on the ground.
As yet the loyal workers did not know the full extent of the opposition; they seemed to sense something unusual in the air, and as they already knew the sentiments of the men who were in touch with Mrs. Comstock and her relatives, perhaps they could give a good guess that mighty interesting developments were bound to come about in the near future, and that a change in the way things were run up in that section of country was imminent.